


Red Death

by cybergirl614, MAPMonstersArePerceptions



Series: I Know You're a Were 'verse [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU Parents Alive, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Baby Harry, Bilingual Character(s), Genius Harry, House Elves, Sickfic, Special Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:27:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7783249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybergirl614/pseuds/cybergirl614, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MAPMonstersArePerceptions/pseuds/MAPMonstersArePerceptions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever's wrong with the little Master Harry; he talks to elves! And whatever will happen when tragedy strikes his family?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Title Page

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this story out.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This delightful little picture was created by the lovely Fiona, a budding artist who enjoys this series.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three Cheers for Fiona!

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/161769596@N06/42147554371/in/dateposted-public/)


	2. Prologue

When Aiyalia (or Ailey as Maschre Donnchad called her) woke up dizzy, she thought nothing of it and simply started to make breakfast. When Maschre Donnchad asked her to light a fire, and she had to do it manually instead of with elven magic, she was terrified. Elves have a symbiotic relationship with tall-ones. They help and serve the tall-ones, and in exchange, they receive a place to live and access to the ambient magic in the home. In a proper bond, this magic can lengthen an elf’s life by decades and give a significant boost to the elf’s strength. To lose access to this magic, to lose the ability to use one's own magic, was a horrible concept. 

Once an elf is bound to the household of a tall-one, only one thing can take away their magic - Requiar Mortun, the Red Death. The Red Death is an illness that starts simply enough: weakness, fatigue, maybe a touch of fever. Soon, however, the elf begins to lose his connection to magic. At this point, the elf often finds an inability to perform his half of the deal between himself and his tall-ones. If an elf is unable to perform his side of the bond for an extended period of time, however, (something only seen as a result of The Red Death) the last and truly fatal step will occur roughly a month after the symptoms begin. No one quite knows how or why elvish blood goes from blue to red in the hours before Requiar Mortun takes a life; it is simply how things are. When Aiyalia discovered she could not call the fire into the hearth, she was sure that her days were numbered and that her death would be slow, lonely, and by the end, unable to even feel the magic around her. It was this that most terrified her. Not being able to practice magic was scary. Not being able to feel the brush of magic’s hand would make death a mercy.

Maschre Donnchad saw the fear in Ailey’s eyes. He saw and thought to ask what was wrong. Contrary to her fears, she was not condemned to a slow, agonizing death. No, the children constantly kept her company after that night, and even though she could not serve in her normal capacity, she could serve by telling them stories. Maschre Donnchad, meanwhile, did everything he could think of (healing rituals, medicinal plants, bedrest) to heal his servant who had turned into a friend. Nothing worked until he asked a neighbor’s elf to tell him about elves. He discovered that, while humans needed more rest to get better, rest could actually cause more harm to an elf unless they were doing something useful for the family. Purely by chance, in this area his children had been helping Ailey by constantly asking for stories. He also discovered that good foods for humans were not always good for elves and immediately sought to learn what Ailey should eat and how to make it. Then one night, an idea to mix what he knew of elvish healing methods and brewing draughts came to mind. He came up with a recipe that might just save Ailey if she could hold on long enough for it to be made. At the final step, when he added three drops of his blood to the draught, blood that reinforced the bond between them and also gave a burst of his magic to her, it turned blue instead of the ruby red it should be. Thinking that he had failed, but certain that his beloved friend would not last the night either way, he gave the drink to her. The next morning, Donnchad came into the room expecting to see a corpse. Instead, she seemed almost healed! Two months after she first discovered that death was imminent, Ailey was as healthy as ever! Donnchad taught her what he had done, and she passed it onto her children.

Five hundred years had passed since Aiyalia and Donnchad. Tall-ones were no longer friends to the elves. Elves were only servants, beneath them. When the Red Death came, healthy elves had to make the draught and give it to the sick, hoping that they did not contract it too. It was discovered that bonded elves often could not make a strong enough version to fight the sickness because they relied too much on ambient magic, and tall-ones had lost the ability even if they knew the recipe. Something in their magic had changed. Children of Aiyalia’s line, hardened by the changes in the world around them, chose to purposefully take steps to void the bond. They would be weaker than many of their kind in some ways, but they would be able to help their people by making the draught when needed and move from home to home to help complete tasks not meant for a few. It was believed that such was the way of the world, and change would never come but somehow a children’s rhyme was formed and lasted hundreds of generations

Red is blue  
Blue is yellow  
Colors are colors  
Don’t you know?

He is my friend  
My friend and yours  
Who does not know  
That red is not blue  
And sees blue too.


	3. Let's Meet Harry!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's a poor house-elf to do when her charge just does not know that he's a wizard?

When Emi was asked to help Mistress Potter care for her infant, all she felt was pride. This was a duty given to her mother and her mother's mother, as long as elves had been bonded to the Potter line. The youngest little Potter, Master Harry, was a joy to care for anyways. Rarely did a frown show on the little tall-one's face, and even as an infant he was so curious and energetic, wanting to know about the world around him. 

Of course, his energy occasionally proved to be the bane of Emi and his parents' existence. One such example came when he was only eight months old. Little Master Harry had decided that he most definitely was NOT going to take a nap, and so, he mimicked Emi and popped into the kitchen. His parents could not decide whether to be excited for his first bout of accidental magic or concerned that he managed to apparate. Emi, while happy that her young master was already using his magic, was a trifle concerned because, unlike Master or Mistress Potter, she knew that he had not apparated. Such would be impossible with the wards on the house. No, Little Master Harry had popped himself in the same way that elves traveled. After talking to her mother, now a rather old elf, she discovered that most tall-ones who grow up with elven nannies actually begin their magic by mimicking elves. Little Master Harry was perfectly normal; he would grow out of the ability as his memories faded and stories of such events by his parents claimed that they were accidental (wizard) magic.

Of course as Little Master Harry grew older, such events continued. He first said “Mama” two weeks and three days after his first birthday. He first expressed a wish for his mommy using words a month before his birthday. They just happened to sort of, kind of, be in the elvish tongue. Based on what she had been told about “accidental” magic, Emi assumed that her Little Master’s innate ability to speak elvish was a phase that he would grow out of. Except he didn't grow out of it. At the same time that he gained the ability to say “hungr” to tell those around him that he was hungry, Emi was hearing him say “I am very hungry. Milk please?” in elvish. Eventually, Emi found herself having to quietly explain the situation to Mistress Potter and teach her a few commonly said phrases by Little Master Harry, so she could understand when he mixed the two tongues. Mistress Potter seemed ecstatic that her son seemed to have a knack for languages, though to Emi’s knowledge Mistress Potter never told the other tall-ones about her son’s ability.

Then Little Master Harry became a toddler. Mistress Potter started having the Little Master clean up his toys after playing. Some of the older elves considered this very strange, but Emi saw that Little Harry was having fun putting his toys away. Sometimes he would follow her around while she was straightening up, and he would ask to help. After Little Harry would ask, he would always look at her with the biggest, most pleadingest eyes, so even though he wasn’t ordering her to let him help, she would say yes anyway. Emi always told herself afterwards that she was just reinforcing the teachings of Mistress Potter to her son. 

By the time Little Harry was four and about an inch taller than Emi, his interests had also turned to the kitchen. Emi had set up a little table for her Harry to “cook” on with a “burner” that would heat a pot or a pan but feel cool to the skin, and knives whose blades would bounce off her charge. At first, he just had fun “making” messy mixes of ingredients that he would ask her to try. Of course, all of them were simply “delicious”! Before he reached five though, she noticed that Little Harry was no longer simply having fun, no. He was mimicking her, and his attempts were slowly becoming something that Master and Mistress Potter could be served. 

By this point, Emi had started to realize that there was something very special about her Harry. She had stopped talking to the other elves about his interests. She might not know much about Little Masters, but she was pretty sure phases weren’t supposed to go on for years and years. To her eyes, the only thing that distinguished Little Harry from an elf was his looks. He even knew, with no teaching, that many of the activities with Emi and the other elves were meant to be a secret. 

When he was with her, he asked to “play” cook or clean or would see if any Potter elflings wanted to play the dancing game with the silly “Red is blue” rhyme. For some reason, he loved that game. When he was with his daddy, he would ask to “ride the Prongsy” or “fly on the broomsick”. With his mummy, he liked to listen to stories. With Master Padfoot, he loved to “pet the doggy”, and Master Moony was his favorite friend for cuddles after an owwie. Her Harry had figured out by himself that “Red is blue” wasn’t appropriate around his parents or uncles. He had learned that riding Prongsy could be done with his daddy but not others. It was the innocence with which he naturally came upon this that made Emi sure her Harry was something special. He spoke in different languages depending on who he was around, did more magic depending on who he was with, did different things for fun, but at the end of the day Emi had to admit to herself that she was unsure if Little Master Harry really understood that she was an elf and he a tall-one. She was unsure if he really realized that there were two different cultures in his home; he flowed from one to the other so seamlessly. Sometimes, she worried how this special child would survive in a world that did not accept change so easily. Would other tall-ones be willing to call him friend? Was it possible for elves outside of the Potter bond to accept a tall-one who found fun in helping? Emi was certain that Little Harry was something special. It was for that reason that she worried, and it was a burden that no one else even acknowledged.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry Potter was a very happy young man. Only six days were left before he would be six! Last night, his daddy had told him a big secret. He couldn’t even tell Mummy! Daddy told him that if he continued to be a good boy, one of his presents just might be a Jr. Firebolt 50! Fifty was a really, really big number, so the broomstick must go super fast and high! Harry was super excited and decided that he was going to be the bestest, bestest almost-six-year-old ever! After numbers and letters time with Mummy (and not even complaining once!), Harry skipped down to the kitchen hoping to play with Pogi or Warken. Pogi was just a little, little bit older than Harry and really cool while Warken was a little bit younger, so Harry could teach him things. Pogi and Warken were his bestest friends, and Harry loved to play with them if the adults were busy. When Harry got to the kitchen, however, he found out that both of his friends were sick and had to stay in bed. Harry was sad but went to his table where he helped Emi with cooking stuff, but he noticed that something was a bit odd. Normally his elvy family really liked to show how fast they could get things done. Emi did things a little slower, so Harry could copy her if they were making something new, but that was it. Today, no one seemed to have much energy, and they seemed to be a little worried. Harry wondered what was wrong and hoped it was nothing too bad. Because Harry was still a little nervous ‘bout how everyone was acting, when Emi told him to go eat with his parents Harry left without a complaint. Course he also didn’t complain, so he could be the bestest almost-six-year-old too.

That night, Harry found himself unable to sleep. He kept having scary dreams about his elvy family being sick and bored in bed unable to have fun cooking or cleaning or, or other fun stuff! He remembered when he was sick a month ago, and it was the most horriblest, boring time ever! Finally, really early (before the sun had even woken up!), Harry crept really, really quietly out of his bedroom. He was de-det-deter, he was really, really sure that he did not want his mummy or daddy to wake up and take him back to bed. He really wanted to see if everything was okay!

Harry had only gone to the kitchen before the sun woke up once before when he was four and woke up with a grumbly tummy. All his kitchen friends and family were awake and eating some really strange looking foods. Emi had offered to make him something, but he had decided to try some of the weird stuff. It was really yummy, and after that he had asked Emi to teach him how to make foods like them at least once a week. She did but told him that it was something that his mummy and daddy wouldn’t like. 

Because Harry had been there once before really early, he assumed that everyone would be eating breakfast like before. He actually was looking forward to it because he loved the food so much. He had just walked through the door and was in the hiding-hole where he would hide if playing hide-and-go-seek with his friends when he saw that his friends weren’t busy eating breakfast. Instead, everyone was acting like they did in his dreams. They seemed kinda tired and not very strong. He overheard someone talk about whether someone named Gellion should be contacted. He seemed to think Gellion could help but someone else didn’t think it was that serious. He saw Pogi’s daddy fall down which he had NEVER seen before. Harry got more and more scared as he saw some people fall. Others seemed to be unable to turn on the burners to cook with; still others were just on the ground crying! Of course, all of this really scared Harry and made him nervous. 

For a few minutes, he sorta, kinda wanted to cry too, but he was afraid it would make Emi (who looked just as bad as everyone else) notice him. Harry didn’t want that ‘cause he sorta thought he might cause more problems for them than help. He didn’t wanna go to his mummy either just ‘cause Harry sorta got a weird feeling in his tummy about that. He knew that his mummy, daddy and uncles never really came to talk to the elves unless something was wrong, and they needed help. He didn’t think that they would know what to do if something was wrong and the elves needed help. Harry just hoped that he could figure out what to do. They were his friends, his family! Harry sat on the ground in his hiding-hole and wiped away the few tears that managed to drip onto his cheeks. He was a big boy now and needed to come up with a plan to help! Harry knew that when he was sick, he wasn’t allowed to do lots of stuff. He could only stay in bed and only do bed stuff if he wasn’t sleeping. He also had to drink lots and lots and eat a bunch of soup. Harry decided to ask his elvy friends to pretty, pretty please just go to their beds and stay there. He would make sure that there was food for his elvy family and the everyone else too. He would try really, really hard to keep things clean too so his parents didn’t find out. So everyone wasn’t really bored in bed, Harry decided that he’d try to find broken things for them to play at fixing. Harry knew that all the elvies were really good at fixing things and had fun doing it too. Harry had tried to fix some of his toys before when they got broke, but he had to have Emi do it. When he tried, he just made it worse. Maybe giving everyone things to fix would keep them from being too, too bored, and they would agree to stay in bed. Harry just hoped that he could really help. If they didn’t seem to be getting better or seemed to be getting worse by the day before his birthday, Harry decided that he would try to find that person Gellion that was talked about.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gellion was the many times great-grandson of Aiyalia. Over the course of generations, the bond had mutated into a horrible, ugly thing. In most homes, elves lived miserable lives and died after only eighty or a hundred years. At least two or three times a year, the once rare condition of Requiar Mortun would strike. It was for this reason that Gellion’s family chose to live unattached to tall-ones. Someone had to remain able to create the cure. As Gellion went from home to home, helping other elves with their never-ending work so as to strengthen himself, he could not help but be glad. While some houses were better than others, Gellion simply could not think about the horror of being trapped in a bond with a creature that never saw his worth. At the moment, Gellion was in the home of one of the most poisonous bonds possible. A part of him contemplated just suggesting to everyone that being unbonded was a better alternative than being bound to the Malfoy family. He knew that he wouldn’t make such a scandalous suggestion, but he was sincerely glad that mate and children were helping at the much kinder Longbottom house. 

In the corner of his mind, Gellion noticed that someone popped into the kitchen where a great feast was being made. This was not terribly surprising. All of the elves in this household were coming to help in the kitchen when they finished their other assignments. Then he noticed that many of the elves had left their work and were quickly coming to the new elf. Gellion overheard his name. One of the elves, Dobby was the name, led the newcomer to his station. It was more than a slight surprise to see that the person who popped in was not an elf at all. No, he was a tall-one child, a child that apparently no one recognized. Then the child began speaking in elvish! Tears falling down his cheeks, the boy sobbed, “Please, please be telling me that you’s Gellion! All my elvy family is very sick! They can’t even float stuff anymore! I tried to make them better; I really did! I asked all of them to go to bed and gave them lots of souchen with Shepherd’s Purse leaves (type of elvish soup). They had fun stuff to do in bed, so they didn’t get bored. Should I have just let this lay in bed and do nothing? Please, please you have to come. I don’t know how to make everyone feel betterer, and I need to get home before Mummy comes to find me. Will you? Will you, sir? We really need your help!” Gellion did not know who this child was who spoke elvish like a first language. He did not know how the child knew elvish magic (if the pop was any indication). He definitely did not know what game he was playing, pretending to care for his servants, even going so far as to beg. What he did know is that an inability to “float stuff” sounded distinctly like the worst ailment that could befall an elf. He had to go with the boy. After he made the draught, maybe answers would come. 

Shortly after arriving in the elven quarters of Potter Manor, Gellion felt like he had a hundred more questions. Thankfully, something had stunted the speed of the Requiar Mortun. After getting the supplies necessary, Gellion went into the kitchen where he could work undisturbed on the draught and think on everything he had seen. The elves here were obviously being cared for, in spite of their inability to work. There were cool rags on their foreheads to keep the fevers down. Though they were unable to do any real chores, they had broken toys and the like next to their beds and were given instructions to work on them if they could. Injuries at Potter Manor seemed to be at a minimum. Other than incidental burns and light bruising likely caused by elves working during the clumsiness of early onset of the sickness, there didn’t seem to be any injuries at all! Gellion would have assumed that the Potters would be mad at the sick elves. It was obvious that none of them were capable of cooking or doing any cleaning for a few days now. According to the elves, they had been sent to bed a few days ago and ordered to rest by the boy, a Harry Potter. 

Speaking of Harry Potter, Gellion heard the pitter-patter of the boy’s feet nearing the entrance. What could he be doing in the kitchen this late? It was at least two or three in the morning! Gellion suddenly realized that there weren’t any dirty dishes. Upon the youngest Potter’s entrance into the kitchen, Harry asked if Gellion knew what was wrong and could fix it. Gellion’s affirmation that he could make everyone well again caused Harry to smile brightly while getting out the supplies to make breakfast. Gellion honestly did not know if he could take many more shocks. When asked why he was awake so early and cooking at that, the boy replied that he had to make breakfast for all his friends and family and would Gellion like some too? Gellion just grunted and left the boy to his devices. Once the first batch reached the simmering stage, Gellion offered to help Harry cook. Having gotten used to surprises, he did not even blink upon seeing that the meal being made was elvish in nature and apparently for the bedridden elves. Gellion just got to work helping to make enough for everyone and even started talking to Harry, specifically about the drink that would help cure his friends and family. “And after it simmers, the last step is to add a few drops of blood to it. It will then turn blue. Everyone can take it thirty minutes after that.” 

At this point, Gellion was busy looking into the cupboards to see what would be appropriate to make for the Potters themselves. The little boy seemed determined to make breakfast for his elves, but Gellion decided that he would send him to bed soon after and do the rest of the work until everyone was back to health. “So at the end, you have to add the crushed dragon-flower seeds to the blue seaweed strips, stir five times to the left, put in the grass of home, let it simmer and then give it blood?” Gellion was impressed that the boy had paid attention but just nodded without turning his head. “How do you know it’s done simmering, sir?” “The dragon-flower seeds will rise to the top. It should just about be time to add blood now,” Only after adding his blood and deciding to make pancakes for the tall-ones’ breakfast did Gellion realize that the child seemed to be watching the food he was cooking very intently. He also seemed to have decided to make four helpings at his little table rather than just one. Gellion hoped that none of it would burn. The next time he looked over, planning to tell the boy to go to bed because the elves’ breakfasts were almost done, he was horrified to see the boy bleeding into the breakfast. Harry just smiled at him though and exclaimed happily “I made three draughts to help my family! Does it look right?” While internally groaning because after Harry went to bed he would have to get more supplies to use in place of the ones the boy used, Gellion reminded himself to put on a smile and go look at the mess the boy made. Except...except...the draught was blue. It was blue! It had been centuries since a tall-one could make the cure. Could it be? After looking carefully at every aspect of the draught and asking Harry for details on how he made it, Gellion had to conclude that it was made correctly. Within hours, the elves would be able to be given their first dose. Because of the bond, Harry’s might even be better for them than his own. 

A few hours later, after everyone had been served breakfast, the first dose was given. It worked even better than expected. While still somewhat weak, limited access to magic had returned, and everyone was eager to get to work. Gellion hesitantly agreed, knowing that having some work would help them to heal as the bond returned to normal. He stayed to help and keep an eye on everyone for dizziness or weakness though. He also took a dose of the cure himself to hopefully keep him from getting sick. It amazed him how energetic everyone seemed to be. It seemed as though they were determined to make a very delicious feast for lunch. Gellion saw three elves in particular who seemed to be in a frenzy. When he asked about it, the three simply turned to him and said today was “Their Harry’s birthday”. It occurred to Gellion that they had not called the boy “Master” or “Maschre”. Part of him wondered if this wasn’t just a very bizarre dream. On the morning of the 30th, Gellion certainly would not have believed that a tall-one could make a working cure for the Red Death. He would not have believed any tall-one of being able to care for elves as an equal. Harry Potter proved him wrong. Frankly, it seemed like an insult to call the boy a tall-one. Based on the time and effort he sacrificed to help his “family”, this boy was an elf in every way that mattered. Gellion decided to give the boy a gift when he next visited the kitchen. A marker was needed so that elves everywhere would be able to see that, appearances aside, he was no tall-one. 

That night, Harry was excited to see all of his friends and family back to normal. It was the bestest gift ever, even better than his new broom, and Gellion got an extra special hug in thanks for his help. When Gellion started saying some weird words while touching his forehead, Harry just let him. 

Emi was certain that her smile could not get wider. She always said that her Harry was something special. Now all the other elves would know it too!

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, comments and kudos work like caffeine.


End file.
